


Got a little of Suburban in Ya?

by Khaleeki



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, game of thrones
Genre: Boxing, F/M, Fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 22:43:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9519155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaleeki/pseuds/Khaleeki
Summary: There is no activity that you can imagine—legal or illegal, savory or unsavory—that is not occurring on a regular basis behind some closed door somewhere in King’s Landing City.  Its bright lights and shiny skyscrapers deceive you, but in fact it’s a dark, dark city.******It was the first time I had come to watch him fight. I thought I should support him. But I was nervous, very nervous; my hands were sweaty and clammy as I rubbed them against my jeans.





	

There is no activity that you can imagine—legal or illegal, savory or unsavory—that is not occurring on a regular basis behind some closed door somewhere in King’s Landing City. Its bright lights and shiny skyscrapers deceive you, but in fact it’s a dark, dark city. With more secrets to hide than anywhere else.

And so there I was on a Sunday afternoon— we were maybe 50 of us in all—in a tiny storefront boxing gym way downtown, watching an unlicensed and unregulated ultimate boxing competition. Yay!

"Sometimes they put up a cage, sometimes it's in a ring, sometimes just on mats," explained my unofficial tour guide, Tyrion with articulate hand gestures.

It was the first time I had come to watch him fight. I thought I should support him. But I was nervous, very nervous; my hands were sweaty and clammy as I rubbed them against my jeans. "Once they had it in a mosque, it’s insane. They just rented out the space and laid down mats," He told me with a chuckle. 

“These mixed martial arts and boxing fights are not legal in the Crownlands for obscure reasons. There are anyways a lot of people that do it y’know. They've been going for years. The police are always after them, and not only for the fighting, there are some shady people in here. Mafias and gangs and the sort. But well, they move around to wherever they can find space, anywhere will do, really,” he kept on telling me as we walked up the stairs in pure darkness and I was wondering where in the Seven Hells I had decided to go.

We wandered through bad-lit hallways and went up more grim looking stairs. I could hear every single step we took; echoing through the walls. I could hear every single breath I took as if I was suddenly aware I was breathing. I was nervous and I was very scared. 

There was a scrawny guy with a strange haircut and a goatee sitting in front of a small double door with a box. _Don’t you get a discount for being a girlfriend or something?_ Apparently not. I still had to pay 10 Coppers to get in. I don’t know what I was expecting but to me it seemed pretty legit.

They had set up a small boxing gym in the storefront that had the white overhead paneling and fluorescent lights of something like an insurance office. It easily could have been one, save for the cut-out _Ring Magazine_ pages taped to the walls and the single, small boxing ring set up towards the back of the space. A couple dozen folding chairs had been set out in crooked rows amid the hanging heavy bags. A tiny little girl in pink pants and a Hello Kitty hat had a front row seat. Spectators were invited to stand in three-foot-wide spaces on either side of the ring, too; there were no real barriers between audience and fighters and fight team entourages.

On the wall in an electronic screen read “The Hound vs. Beric Dondarrion” in red bright letters. It kept on flashing like an OPEN sign on a shop window. I kept on looking at it, transfixed. I wondered who Beric actually was. I have heard enough about him though, from his extreme religious beliefs to his (mafia) gang- The Brotherhood. But I wondered who he _really_ was, not what people said he was. If there was someone waiting for him back home, if maybe the little girl with the Hello Kitty hat was his daughter? I wondered if he prays before going to a fight, if his god helps him. Because my gods have never helped me. And my Sandor, there was no one waiting for him back home, but I was there and that’s what mattered. What matters.

Tyrion and I walked around the ring and sat down the furthest away possible from the stage, as I requested. Sandor didn’t know I had come, and he didn’t know my company was Tyrion Lannister. I was scared he was going to get a heart attack when he saw me and then loose his match. 

Tyrion was a good businessman, or so they said, not that I have any idea about being a businessman but I have been around my dad for long enough. He helped people, he had a good heart even though he didn’t show it - and he certainly didn’t show it. I mean he had weird hobbies and stuff but he was helping me and he helped Sandor. 

I sat down reluctantly at the edge of the chair and looked around the small room. Now it seemed really depressing, the previous white walls were now basically grey and dirty and there were bottles and stuff I didn’t recognize in the corners. There were also more screens around the room announcing the fighters for tonight like _“The Great Khal vs. The Dragonknight”, “The Kingslayer vs. Grey Worm”_ and _“The Blackfish vs. Bronn from Blackwater”_ they shone in different fluorescent colours lighting up the room in gloomy shades. It actually made it look lively, much more than it actually was. 

“You know some of these dudes are having a hard time," Tyrion continued explaining looking up at me with his mismatched eyes, "Some don't have no money, some are even in school. These guys are all doing their best, under the circumstances,” he told me, but I already knew that.

I remembered when Gendry used to fight downtown to make money. He came from the shady part of King’s Landing; I judged him for it at first. And I regret it now. His family didn’t have much to get by and he did what he could to keep going. I recall seeing him with blue flecks stretched across his skin and torn lips. In the very worst cases he had black eyes and dark blood trickling down the side of his face. Arya used to cure him with her lips in a thin line and a frown on her face, “You should have seen the other guy,” he used to tell her with a smile that wasn’t really a smile. Arya also used to go to the fights most of the time, to make sure he didn’t die, she said.

“They just want to fight. Fight, fight, fight,” Tyrion continued saying as he punched his closed fist against his other hand to make his point. 

I hugged my coat closer to myself and scanned the people here. There was a wide variety of personas scattered around the room. People I couldn’t quite categorize. I’ve never felt so out of place, so far from home. I was quite curious about the reasons for them to be in this strange storefront. It just had a sad feeling to it you know, like nothing good ever happened here and no one ever laughed. 

“But well it’s not that bad,” Tyrion said as he flashed me a smile after probably seeing my facial expression. I haven’t even told Arya. I should have come with her. But you know why I didn’t? I was scared she would judge me or something which is really ridiculous, I know. Our relationship has really gotten better, it’s not good but it is better.

Robb would kill me if he found out I was here, and I know Arya wouldn’t. He has always been so protective. He has always treated me as a fragile china doll that would break if someone holds me too tight. That would crack with the slightest of touches, and gosh, at some point I did feel that way but not anymore. Sandor doesn’t make me feel that way. He makes me feel strong, like the person I’m supposed to be.

That’s why I didn’t tell anyone I was there, because I know I’m strong enough to do this alone. I don’t need protection and I wanted to support Sandor. I mean, it’s just this thing that goes on all the time in King’s Landing. Not a big deal.  
“These guys here though, they are the big deal,” said Tyrion pointing to the flashing signs while breaking me out of my thoughts, “They are like the professionals of this business. The highest category,” he lifted his hands above his head and made a face. At that same time a tall and boisterous man in the front rows called Tyrion’s name with a loud roar. He lifted his hands in a greeting.

“Well I have to go make some bets, who would I be if I didn’t bet for my dear brother?” Tyrion asked me sarcastically and placed his small hand on my shoulder. _Wait- brother? ___

__“O-okay,” I said looking down at my sweaty hands on my lap, “Thank you though, for everything.”_ _

__“Don’t worry, I’ll bet for The Hound too,” he said winking exaggeratedly at me._ _

__I said nothing as I saw him waddle towards the other side, where older men were laughing loudly. I didn’t expect him to stay with me the whole time, but I’m glad he - at least - came with me until here. When I asked him to help me get here, he narrowed his mismatched eyes at me, furrowed his brow and then nodded. Not even a little bit surprised. He didn’t even ask a single question. I’m not sure how he exactly found out about us - it was probably that shady detective friend of his, Varus or whatever. I mean the Lannisters aren’t known for their good deeds (in fact, I’m pretty sure they have none at all) and Yarys knows about everything and everyone in this hell of a place. People do awful things sometimes, but that doesn’t make someone a bad person. He is certainly one of the best of his family._ _

__Arya hates all of the Lannisters though, well she also hates everyone - except Jon and Gendry. She even ‘hates’ Sandor and likes to remind everyone about it whenever he is near. The story goes way back; you see he had to compete against one of her friends, Mycah, who had been fighting for most of his life; apparently he was really good for being as young as he was. The called him “The Wonder”. He got into the high level fighting in King’s Landing and had to fight against “The Hound”. Mycah was certainly good but Sandor was bigger and stronger and older, he beat him so badly in the fight he had to rush to the hospital. The injury was so terrible he couldn’t take part in fighting or martial arts anymore, but he did get better. It was quite tragic; he spent like 5 months crying, they told him could make it big, become a professional. But it never happened. Arya was really upset about it too. But I know she doesn’t truly hate him. He didn’t mean to do that, it was also a really tough time in his life. But just, ugh, there is no way of reasoning with this girl._ _

__The goatee guy from the front desk slipped in between the elastic ropes, up to the ring, he turned on the microphone and tapped it with two fingers. “Ladies and gentlemen welcome!” he said exultantly, extending his arms, “We have a very special evening tonight, the quarterfinals to our male league of the Iron Tournament!” I stared at him and I swore that he stared right back at me. “In the category of the King’s Landing Street Boxing of the WBA here in Flea Bottom, presiding this match we have the judges Barristan Selmy, Meryn Trant and Jaquen Hag’ar and our referee Davos!”_ _

__“Tonight with us, we have our very own Kingslayer against Grey Worm from Astapor!” he made a gesture with his hand pointing towards the blinking signs, “Then my friends you will experience The Great Khal from the Grass Sea against the black and red Dragonknight! And don’t forget the great Bronn from the Blackwater vs. the deadly Blackfish! Aaaaand last but not least: the rabid Hound against the cunning Mr. Beric Dondarrion!” I clapped absentmindedly, observing everyone around me, staring at them smiling and cheering, just looking at them._ _

__“I want to thank you all for coming and I won’t keep you busy any longer, let the first bout start!” More claps, more cheers. He climbed down and started giving orders to a bunch of people standing around him.  
The first match pitted a tall and slender boxer named The Kingslayer, whom I almost didn’t recognize if it wasn’t for that same smug smile planted on his face, against Grey Worm, a young tanned man with toned muscles and a very defined six pack._ _

__The Kingslayer (a.k.a Jaime Lannister) dripped confidence, his stride was assured, his face calm with his sexy smirk to top it off. Now it made sense why Tyrion was here. His flaxen locks were now short, shorter than I’ve ever seen them before and he had grown a bushy beard, which was strange, it didn’t look like Jaime Lannister at all. His robe had a bright roaring golden lion on the back. His gloves a matching shimmering gold._ _

__Grey Worm in comparison had a determination planted on face, his lips a straight line, not betraying a single emotion. His hair was completely shaved off and he seemed almost angry. His robe was shiny and dark grey almost black. They made a strong contrast, almost like opposites._ _

__They both got to their respective sides of the ring and sat down on small stools at the corners. When Grey Worm took off his robe I could see the face of a woman tattooed on his left bicep. I wondered if he loved her. I mean he had her face on his arm for ever, but as I looked around I saw no one that actually looked like that. Well I saw no one close supporting him basically. I felt distressed; I almost wanted to go to him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. I feel like such a child sometimes, he doesn’t want my pity or whatever._ _

__On the other side, Jaime had Tyrion by his side and Barristan Selmy standing next to the ring, along with the corner men and all of the guys from Kings Guard’s gym. A big and muscular woman was whispering in his ear, she could have easily been one of the boxers. She had straw-colored hair and broad coarse features covered in freckles but she had a bright smile. At first, I thought she was his trainer, but oh- how wrong I was._ _

__When the referee -or I’m not really sure if that’s what they are called- gave the sign Grey Worm strode forward, determined, and tried to grab his opponent around his torso. He failed. Jaime skidded to the side and plunged his elbow into Grey Worm’s back. There was a chorus of Oh’s and a lot of shouting. Grey Worm grunted and with his gloved hands he tried to stand up again. He was in position, ready to fight, it was like Jaime didn’t even hit him. The whole match went like this; it was like he barely felt the blows as if he was a trained warrior, a soldier ready to win or die. The corner men shouted advice the entire time, sometimes leaning in to shout inches from Jaime's ear as his head poked through the ropes during a chokehold. ("Pass, Jaime!" "Hit him, Kingslayer!" "You gotta hit him in the face, Jaime!") Jaime had no shortage of strategic advice. His lip was torn, blood dripping down his chin, but he wasn’t giving up. He studied his opponent like a hawk, his pretty smirk wiped off._ _

__Jaime smashed him hard on his nose and then hard in the temple with his right hand and that was it— the referee counted 30 seconds but Greyworm was splayed out unconscious on his back. One corner shouted, "Hey, he hit him in the back of the head!" From the other corner, inches away from the grasping fighters: "No he didn’t, that's the temple. I saw it." A bunch of people gathered around Greyworm; he got up, though, and received a loud round of applause._ _

__*****_ _

__“I suppose you’re kind of confused,” said a voice close to me, I lifted my gaze from my phone and saw the woman who was standing next to Jaime before. She sat on the chair next to me and placed her hefty hands on her knees. “I suppose you don’t come here very often, “she said kindly, her voice was thick, like it was covered in honey._ _

__“I- no not really,” I replied lowering my eyes, I sounded like a scared child._ _

__“Yeah I saw you kind of lost,” she said softly, searching my gaze._ _

__“Yeah,” I whispered looking up at her colossal blue eyes._ _

__“Are you waiting for someone or supporting someone or-”_ _

__“I’m waiting for someone,” I replied as quickly as possible. “My sister,” I added so it didn’t look so suspicious._ _

__“Do I know you?” she asked me studying my face carefully. Shit, I thought. Of course she knows me, my father is Eddard Stark. “I don’t think so,” I responded smiling._ _

__A new match started, it was The Blackfish and Bronn from Blackwater. Brienne as I learned, her name was, told me they were professionals. Slightly older than the other ones but they knew their game. As The Blackfish entered the room I almost fell off my chair. I was so shocked I can imagine my eyes were twice their size and my mouth was hanging open. I was so shocked when I saw my mom’s uncle that I wasn’t sure if to crawl under a chair or go to him and ask him what he was doing. I gawked at him and there was no way he was not Brynden Tully. Absolutely no way. Brienne was saying something but I have no idea what it was, “Is everything alright?” she asked me actually concerned, I composed myself and hid my face under my hair, “What? Yeah! Everything is fine, I just almost thought I saw my sister but I guess she forgot.”_ _

__“Why did you agree to meet here?” she asked furrowing her brow._ _

__“Oh um well her boyfriend boxes here,” I said calmly, I mean it’s partly the truth. I hate lying, I really do. And since I was with Joffrey, the lies slip out of me like a song. I learned to lie with him. Don’t get me wrong though, I am not embarrassed of Sandor, I just couldn’t tell her why I was really there. The walls have ears and anyone could tell my dad or something. I wasn’t going to risk it._ _

__“Really? who is he?” _Shit._ Well now I had to really lie. _Oh my god. Bronn? No! The Blackfish. What that’s like incest. Oh my god, I don’t know what to say. Crap. She is going to find out._ “Greyworm.” I said turning towards her._ _

__“Oh,” Brienne crooned, “She missed his match,” she actually looked kind of sad; I nodded also putting up a sad twist in my mouth. I’m so fake sometimes._ _

__“Introducing first.... from the red corner weighing 175 pounds: Bronn from the Blakwater! No one knows where he is from and no one knows where he is going, but he is considered by many, one of the best boxers of the last decade, with 52 wins, 38 of them coming by the way of knockout, and 12 defeats. In the blue corner a man from Riverrun, winner of multiple competitions and champion of the King’s Landing UVK competition in 4 occasions, ladies and gents: Theeee Blaaaaaackfiiishhhh.”_ _

__The same procedure went; they shook hands, put on gloves, put on mouthpieces. People were buzzing around them like bees, talking to them and reassuring them and patting them on the back. I even felt anxiety for them. The referee explained things and said they could start and they started punching each other._ _

__From my peripheral vision I could see Brienne begin to open her mouth, before she could say anything I asked her: “So what are the rules basically of this game? ”_ _

__She closed her mouth and turned to look at me, she gave me grin. “Well basically the object of the sport it to knock out your opponent,” she explained while looking intensely at the fight._ _

__“A boxing match is divided into rounds of two or three minutes, with a one-minute rest period in between. Then there are three judges who decide the points each one should get, even though in here it doesn’t always work like that or they are paid or they don’t care. But well a point is scored when you land a stiff punch with the white scoring area on your glove on one of the 'scoring areas' of your opponent. The scoring areas are basically any legal spot on the head/body, though you won't get points for banging the shoulders buut here no one really cares about that either. Damage is not the objective, scoring without being scored upon is, but of course here damage is 90% of the time the objective,” she explained with movements of her hands. I nodded, I wasn’t sure if I was paying attention or not. I was busy looking at my great-uncle box. I was surprised to say the least, that he was so fast._ _

__“You know, Tyrion told me to look after you,” I almost broke my neck as I turned to look at her properly. _Tyrion did what?_ She knows who I am? _ _

__“I don’t need to be looked after. I’m not a child,” and here we go again with people trying to protect me. I’m a grown woman but they all treat me like a toddler._ _

__“I understand that, but this part of town, it’s- dangerous. You could get robbed or worse. He was just trying to keep you safe and-”_ _

__“Thank you Brienne, I appreciate that, but I can take care of myself,” I interrupted her, “I need to make a call, if you will excuse me.” Before she could say anything else, I stood up abruptly and stormed out of the door._ _

__As I stood there under the bright fluorescent light in the middle of the tatty hallway, I felt like an idiot. What exactly was I thinking? Probably Sandor doesn’t even want me here. I was just going to leave, it would be easier._ _

__I went through my contacts wondering who I could bother at this time with my problems. I tried Jeyne but she didn’t answer. I tried Margaery but her phone was off. Do I even have any friends? Friends that would stick with you no matter what? I tried my sister and she also didn’t reply. Great. It was 11:26 as I sat on those dirty stairs; I didn’t want to go back in there. I thought about my life and how miserab- my phone buzzed. It was Arya._ _

__“Hey,” I said my voice sounded smaller than I intended it to. “What’s uuup, “she said dragging the u._ _

__“Are you drinking?” I snapped, oh my god, I just sounded like our mother._ _

__“Noooo, I’m at my McDonalds,” the dragging of her vocals kind of told me otherwise._ _

__“Are you drinking at McDonalds?” I wondered, it wouldn’t be the first time._ _

__“What? Sansa! puh-lease. I’m not 16 anymore,” she scoffed, and I could hear her smile from the other side of the line. That wolfish grin on hers when she is mocking you. “I’m eating fries and I think I will have a McFlurry with Oreos, whyyy?”  
she lilted._ _

__“Are you high?”_ _

__“Oh my god, Sansa really, you are being a pain in the ass, what do you want?”_ _

__“I – look I – I’m in Flea Bottom right now. I wanted to see Sandor box. Cause I‘ve never been to any of his fights and I feel like I’m not fully supporting him you know, because he really wants to win this, to show his brother that he is better than him and also for himself and the money and everything . And I’ve just been waiting for him at home like those housewives waiting for the soldiers to come back and I kind of feel like a brat, that’s too scared to go to Flea Bottom. And maybe he doesn’t want me here and he is going to start with the whole that it’s so dangerous and it’s not for me and stuff and I don’t know what to do.” I spat the words out like a machine-gun; I even had to take a breath after it._ _

__“Um…. shit Sans. I don’t know what to say, like- well I mean, I think he will be happy to see you,” she stammered out. I could tell she was confused. We don’t really tell each other our problems._ _

__“You think?” I asked her, because I realized that her opinion mattered to me. A lot._ _

__“Yeah I really do, especially if he wins!” she said, “And I think he will; he is good at what he does.”_ _

__“Yeah,” I acknowledged and bit my lip, realizing how I don’t know if he is good or not because I’ve never seen him box, and maybe I didn’t want to. After a while I realized that Arya didn’t want to see Gendry hurt, she liked the fights, but not his fights. And I don’t want to see Sandor hurt either._ _

__“Damn you’re really in Flea Bottom?” she laughed out loud at that and I laughed too “Yeahhhh,” I giggled, it did sound really insane._ _

__“Wow, you must really like this asshole,” she teased._ _

__“Ugh Arya,” I heard her hearty laugh resonate through the walls of the stairs and I smiled, a real smile._ _

__“Well, thank you though,” I said honestly. It did help me._ _

__“Sure, I mean, I didn’t do anything.”_ _

__“You never do anything.”_ _

__“Let me know if you get robbed!”_ _

__***  
When I returned, I apologized to Brienne, she said it was okay and gave a soft look and a matching smile. Bronn had won the other match, I felt a bit upset for my great uncle that I barely knew. When I looked at the ring, the new fighters or boxers or whatever were already there. The Great Khal had rich dark skin, long black hair and muscled arms with tattoos curling around them. He looked rough and like a member from a mafia._ _

__My first impression of The Dragonknight was that he was snobby. He was actually a jujitsu fighter (as Brienne had told me) who had blonde- almost white- hair above his shoulders and many inscrutable and colourful tattoos across his stomach and chest. He was slim and tall, still muscled up, but skinny compared to the Khal. Brienne told me he named himself after one of his family members who was a boxer but died during a street fight, or something of the sort._ _

__They were in the 3rd round already. The Khal ran straight out and slammed a punch into the Dragon's side. The Dragonknight started punching the Khal with all his strength but then he swung around wrapped his legs around the wrestler's waist and his arms around him and pulled him to the ground and choked him out—all within like four seconds._ _

__In the next rounds there was a lot of punching. A lot of dancing around each other, the Khal was strong but the Dragonknight was fast .They were basically at each other’s throats, punching and bashing like maniacs. The Khal grabbed the Dragon by the waist somehow with gloved hands and with all his strength slammed him against the floor which elicited an audible "crunch." I gave a loud gasp and put my hands over my mouth._ _

__The Khal stoop up and gave some sort of growl he stood at a corner and waited for his opponent to hit him again. But The Dragon was not getting up. I could hear the murmurs from all the people around me. I stood up with many other curious eyes to check if the guy was okay and I creeped closer I saw his leg had bent at an odd angle, and his femur snapped clean in half. I gasped and looked away. He just lay in the ring in a pained heap. He didn't cry, but he had that look of agony on his face that adults who are too macho to cry get when they're experiencing pain that makes them wish they could cry._ _

__Later, a guy who'd been recording the fight on his phone showed us the replay: The Khal slammed him with such strength on the floor, one leg planted awkwardly, and then it all came crumbling down._ _

__"That's certainly one of worst injuries that have ever happened in these fights," Brienne assured me. “It doesn’t usually end up in broken legs, but there are no real set of rules and knowing Khal Drogo, well…” Even a video of it pooped up in YouTube the other day. That it came not as the direct result of a strike but from an awkward fall was somehow reassuring. The same injury could happen in soccer, for god's sake. There was no medic in the house, so eventually they loaded the injured fighter onto a big white plastic table with the legs folded up and slid him out of the ring so the other fight could go on._ _

__"They gonna have to take him to the hospital," speculated one very smart ringside observer as the Dragonknight's leg flopped in an alarmingly unnatural direction, making it appear as if he'd grown an extra joint. "They can't put him in a cab like that," I said. Well they did._ _

__Only one fight was left and I knew who it was. I started getting nervous again, my hands started getting clammy and I kept on rubbing them against my jeans. Maybe I should have hidden or left or something. But I stayed there, glued to my chair and my gaze on the boxing ring. I remembered the glowing sign:_ _

__The Hound vs. Beric Dondarrion_ _

__I heard people talking, voices on voices, saying nothing at all, everything getting mixed up together. That’s when I saw him; his yellow robe had three pouncing hounds on it. I had never seen it before. His long hair was covering most of his face and he walked determined, unstoppable. He seemed like a dangerous man, he looked wild and threatening and menacing. And all I could think was that that’s not who he is. I knew everyone looking at him would have that idea, I wanted to shout in their faces and tell them that that’s not who he is. Just who he looks like._ _

__It’s almost like he is Sandor with me and The Hound with everyone else. I never liked the name he uses for fighting. It was of a worse time in life, when he was in the deep end and he’s not there anymore. That’s not who he is.  
There was Barristan again standing next to the ring, with the whole gang from the gym. Jaime and Sandor trained in this gym, which surprised me. Throughout all of the matches they were playing a decidedly un-testosteronish mix of old school hip hop, with a radio that worked when it wanted to. It made it all really awkward._ _

__I stared at Sandor the whole time, staring as he took his robe off, as he tied up his hair, as he drank water, as he put on his mouthpiece, as his team put on his gloves, as he cracked his neck and stretched. I knew Brienne was looking at me I just couldn’t tear my eyes away. I was hoping that he’d look in my direction and then that he didn’t. He didn’t look nervous at all, which was surprising. I certainly was._ _

__“Ladies and gentleman, our last match for tonight, in the red corner weighing 74 kg and with 64 wins 32 by KO and 9 loses, our very own rabid Hoooound! He took a break but now he is back more wild than ever. Aaaand in the blue corner with 66 wins 24 by KO and 13 loses, weighing 69 kg : the mysterious Beric Dondarrion!”_ _

__Claps. Cheers. Whoops._ _

__I couldn’t bring myself to clap; I just sat there, rubbing my hands against my jeans. But my palms kept on sweating. They felt cold and clammy and I didn’t feel ready. The referee- Davos, said something but I couldn’t quite hear it right. It felt like I was underwater. Then they were circling each other, like two felines ready to pounce. Beric shook his head and did small jumps and flexed his arms. Sandor just walked, with his eyes following his every movement._ _

__He bounced on his feet once, twice and then charged. He threw up his forearms like an offensive lineman blocking a defensive back, but Sandor slipped to the side. He pushed the man’s elbow down and away, caught his head, and rolled him into the floor. Third of a second once contact was made, and Beric was on his feet, watching my muscular man rush toward him and hit him square in the face. Beric’s head bounced back and I gasped. He just shook it off even though blood was beginning to trail down his nose and hit Sandor on his side with full force, which he tried to block but ended up being hit from under his chin. He staggered backwards. I took a deep breath of air, feeling it fill my lungs. The people were cheering loudly, for Sandor and Beric, (“Hit him man! What are you waiting for?” “Go harder!” “Punch the face!”)_ _

__Sandor started to walk towards his opponent, cornering him. With no hesitation he punched the side of his face hard, and then the other and then again. With no hesitation. At that moment I saw The Hound and not Sandor. Not my Sandor, who was gentle and kind but the brutal monster the others make him out to be._ _

__It rocked Beric off balance and he took a step back and then steadied himself, blinking his eyes and staring at him with determination. His headache must have been a starburst; he must have been really dizzy._ _

__They did their little dance again, circling each other, watching each other. Suddenly Beric jumped like a cobra. The Hound wobbled back when he slammed his fist into his shoulder. He stumbled forward and jabbed at his chest but Dondarrion blocks it. The Hound struck his neck with a hard blow; he tried to clutch his throat with his gloved hand, coughing his face turning red. I realized the punches they made were actually against the rules, but nobody said anything.  
Then they signaled the first part was over._ _

__I relaxed into my plastic chair. It passed much faster than I thought. I rubbed my hands against my pants, and looked at Brienne. She was staring at me, her cerulean eyes searching my face for something._ _

__“So… I take it that you know the Hound?”_ _

__“Yes,” I answered simply, without an explanation._ _

__“Ouhkay,” she said making it more awkward than it actually was. I could tell she wanted to ask me more, but didn’t want to pry._ _

__I wasn’t sure what Brienne was still doing here. I know she wanted to protect me, or maybe Tyrion had told her to or even Jaime. But it just made me feel more like a baby, who needed to be taken care of. I just wanted to be there for him, as so many times he had done for me. I just wanted to show that I supported him in his decisions even if I didn’t fully agree with them. I wanted what we had to work, so badly. And seeing him up there punching and getting punched made really damn upset, just because that was his past self. When people see Sandor they are reminded of The Hound, it’s like he is a different person and that scares me more than I would like to admit._ _

__Sandor drank the water they sprayed into his mouth, put his mouthpiece on and jumped out of the chair. When the bell thingy rang again, I took a deep breath and mentally prepared myself for this._ _

__They started moving, both more determined. Their respective couches shouting encouraging words. Beric struck, punch to the side, Sandor struck, punch to the face. Beric hit back, Sandor ducked, he tried to land a double blow, Beric shielded his face with both his arms. They both separate to think their next attack. The crowd cheered._ _

__Beric started pacing and as fast a cheetah jabbed at Sandor’s stomach hard and then with no warning the burned side of his face. Sandor groaned and fell to his knees in my direction, when his eyes lift I know he saw me because his eyes open in surprise and suddenly Beric knocks him off with a bash to his head and he dropped to the ground. I gasp very loudly and stand from my chair. Oh no, no, no, no. This is exactly what I didn’t want. Jesus, he is not standing up, I felt like crying. No - this was not happening._ _

__The referee started to count and by ten Sandor stood up, I release the air I didn’t know I had been holding, and as he stood he look at me again. People cheer for him, screaming out things and words of encouragement. Our eyes met, blue and grey crashing and my cheeks flushed like a school girl’s and he gave me a nod and I gave him a smile. I bit my lip and sat back down, avoiding looking at Brienne’s confused face, but I know now she had already put two and two together.  
Beric wiped the sweat of his forehead with his forearm, and took a deep breath as they both took their positions. Their dance started again, twisting around the ring. This time it was more aggressive, it all went so fast I only saw blurs of movement._ _

__Sandor’s brow was dripping red around his face and Beric’s mouth was covered in dry blood. Brienne said it doesn’t usually end like this but now I doubt it. Sandor strode with decision towards Beric and started slamming his gloved fist in his face, Beric triesd to cover himself, ducking and shielding, but Sandor was like in a trance and kept on smashing him full force. I looked at him terrified that he was not stopping. Beric’s knees started buckling, fresh blood running down his nose, which was by then probably broken and he fell to the ground. They counted to thirty and as they saw Beric not standing again they announced Sandor the winner. I was terrified but happy at the same time, something I had never felt at the same time before. He lifted his arms and there are loud cheers for him, he looked at me and I recognize something in his face._ _

__Then he rolled out of the ring, T-shirt ripped down to a V-neck, nose and chest bloody, with huge red mat scars on his neck, and made his way to the bathroom to wash his face, looking like a tired—oh so tired—man coming home from work.  
His girlfriend could not have been pleased. But he did it. At least he did it._ _

__I told Brienne I’ll be back in a bit and with a knowing face she gave me a nod; I started walking towards the bathroom it seemed like the longest walk ever. I was nervous and giddy at the same time I didn’t know if I was mad at him (or if he was mad at me) or not so I decided to figure it out on the way there, as I walked through the old wooden door and people gave me strange looks- cause what was I doing going into the male’s bathroom? I entered and saw his familiar figure leaning against the sink, the faucet still running. I stepped slowly towards him and put my hand on his back, it was warm and sweaty. He turned around alarmed “Little Bird,” he whispered._ _

__“I’m here,” I told him and grabbed his face with both my hands as I stared into his stormy eyes. His lips stretched into a smile and I grinned at him I stepped closer toward him and closed the space between us pressing my forehead against his. I decided I wasn’t mad at him (and it seemed he wasn’t mad at me either)._ _

__“I’m glad you came,” he murmured as he grabbed my waist with his large hands and I wrapped my arms around him, even though he was sweaty and sticky. The kiss was slow but passionate; his lips were soft against mine and the beginning of stubble felt rough against my skin. Sandor’s tongue caressed mine, he held me closer, like something precious as I probed further slipping my tongue into his mouth. The moan I got in response was familiar and sent that intimate feeling of electricity to the pit of my stomach. I missed him._ _

__“Let’s go home,” I told him and he nodded and interlaced my fingers in between his._ _

**Author's Note:**

> There might be things that aren't tquite right with the whole boxing rules and so on but I didn't know so much about the sport so I had to research a lot. If there's anything wrong please let me know!


End file.
